


Overload

by sciencefictioness



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Blackwatch Genji Shimada, Blackwatch Jesse McCree, Blood and Gore, Cyborg Genji Shimada, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mutual Pining, Oral Sex, Pre-Fall of Overwatch, Trans Genji Shimada, Vaginal Sex, mild body horror
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-10
Updated: 2018-11-12
Packaged: 2019-08-21 10:55:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16575098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sciencefictioness/pseuds/sciencefictioness
Summary: Genji holds Jesse’s guts together in an alley in Moscow, and wants things he cannot let himself have.  Jesse breathing goes shallow, and the biotics are too slow, and he clings to Genji’s arm with bloody hands.  His pupils are two different sizes, and he’s having trouble focusing his gaze, but his mouth works just fine.Love you, Genji.  I love you.Genji loves him, too, but Hanzo’s ghost still lives in the edges of his vision, and Genji’s bones are buried in the ground across the world.  He will never be whole again, and Jesse deserves more than this.More than Genji, made of metal, aching for vengeance.





	1. Raw

**Author's Note:**

  * For [roughlycut](https://archiveofourown.org/users/roughlycut/gifts).



> Apparently I can only write reunion mcgenjis. I would apologize but I'm not actually sorry.

The machines are never truly quiet.  There is always something whirring, something clicking, something beeping.  Always working, even if he isn’t sure what they’re doing, exactly; he’s long since given up trying to make sense of the maze of wires and tubes that are keeping him alive.  

 

Genji looks at the metal spilling across his chest, at the scarred, inflamed edges where the plates meet his skin, and wonders if it will be the same for him.

 

Wonders if he’ll ever know silence again, or if the rest of his life will be more of this— listening to the relentless shifting of steel on steel, the soft hiss of hydraulics. 

 

The endless, vicious agony.

 

Genji aches in bones he doesn’t have.  Flexes his jaw, wincing at the sting where the synthetic black flesh hasn’t quite settled on the bottom half of his face. 

 

Grinds his teeth, and clenches his fist, and thinks of home.

 

It is always like this; Genji is nothing but pain and fury, buried again and again under the wash of anaesthetics.  Day in and day out, and they slowly put him back together with all the wrong pieces, but Genji will take it.

 

If this is the price of vengeance, Genji will pay.

 

-

 

Jesse crashes in like a storm, filthy and covered in blood, clutching his side as he is pushed along by a scowling Dr. O’Deorain.

 

“I’m goin’, I’m goin’!  Quit shoving and—  _ oh.”   _

 

Genji’s door is open, and Jesse stumbles to a stop just outside, taking in the sight of him.  He sits up— it still hurts, but he’s figured out how to balance himself, how to move without throwing himself off-kilter.  It’s easier when he’s wearing his prosthetics, but they are being rebuilt again, and Genji can’t wear them all the time, anyway.  

 

Not when his body is still being reworked.  Fixed, and then fixed again, even though the things they are meddling with aren’t always broken.

 

Jesse’s stare is a physical thing on his skin; on the ungainly tubes sticking out of his body, hair falling in his eyes, chin high as he tenses and waits.  

 

Genji has met a few members of Blackwatch thus far, and it hasn’t always gone smoothly.  He knows what he is, now, knows what he looks like, but that doesn’t mean he wants to hear it from these people.  

 

What a fucking monstrosity he’s become, all for the sake of turning him on their enemies.

 

On his own enemies, if things work out the way he wants.

 

Hanzo is there for the barest of moments, lurking on the edges of Genji’s vision.  Holding a bloody sword, hands shaking. Lips trembling as they work around his name,  _ Genji, Genji. _

 

Falling apart when he doesn’t have the right, but it’s okay.

 

If Hanzo wants to fall to pieces, Genji will give him that.  In time.

 

Then Jesse smiles, and winks, and Hanzo vanishes as he takes a step into Genji’s doorway and leans against the frame.

 

“Hey there, dollface.  Where they been hidin’ you all this time?”

 

His voice comes out pitched lower than before, unmistakably flirtatious.  It has been a long while since Genji has heard it, that sultry tone people use when they’re thinking about fucking him, but it’s impossible to forget entirely.  Sultry is a language Genji learned long before English, and the fluency is there, if rusty with disuse. 

 

Jesse talking to him like this has to be some kind of bad joke.  

 

Genji’s blood is filtering through tubes while O’Deorain and Ziegler perfect his artificial kidney.  His face is a mess of scars. His bottom lip is synthetic black, stretched over a metal jaw, and his eyes glow red on and off; something he’s yet to figure out how to control.  Something to do with operating his cybernetics, and O’Deorain says it will come to him in time, but he can’t stop the crimson from thrumming to life in his irises as Jesse stares, stares, stares.  

 

Except there is no disgust in his expression, no repulsion. Jesse’s eyes linger on Genji, and he feels his cheeks heating, feels the red in his eyes stutter and strobe.

 

Genji blinks at him stupidly for a few seconds before he shakes off the surprise— scowls, and lays back down, rolling over to face the wall.  It feels sullen and childish, but he can’t storm off the way he’d like. Can’t go anywhere, can’t do anything.

 

His entire world is this shitty, off-white hospital room so far underground that it’s suffocating, tucked into a forgotten corner of the base where he can be kept secret until he is ready.  A rehab facility no one else uses, a training room he can’t even walk all the way across most days. The mechanism that loads and unloads his shuriken is fully functional, always, and Genji isn’t surprised.

 

More weapon than man; that, at least, is familiar.

 

Some things never change.

 

There is the sound of a scuffle.  Jesse swears under his breath,  _ okay, okay, I’m GOIN’, get your hands offa me,  _ O’Deorain yelling down the hall for Dr. Ziegler.

 

Genji closes his eyes, and tries not to scratch at the places his tubes sink into his skin, or run his fingers over the scars on his face.  The drugs are starting to wear off, pain surging up more vividly, and Genji paws through the blankets and sheets to find the reassuring square end of his morphine drip.

 

Presses the button, and feels everything go soft at the edges, eyes heavy and body loose.  Genji sighs, and everything recedes into the background. There is no Blackwatch, no team of doctors to torture him, no memories of Hanamura.

 

Hanzo is a ghost in the fog of opiates Genji lives in, and he presses the button again until his brother disappears entirely.

 

There is nothing for him but sleep; the drip falls from his hand, fingers clumsy and numb, just the way he likes them.

 

Genji lays his palm over his heart, and lets the rhythm and the drugs lull him into darkness.

 

-

 

Jesse comes back.

 

Jesse comes back, and Genji spits acid at him as best he can, but it doesn’t seem to faze him.  He just smiles,  _ aww darlin’, don’t be like that,  _ as though they are old friends instead of strangers.

 

He pulls up a chair, and talks, and it doesn’t seem to matter that Genji hardly ever talks back.

 

Doesn’t seem to matter that when he does forget himself and speak that his voice is glitchy and robotic.  Air runs through an artificial larynx to form his words, and it’s bizarre, and unsettling. Close to his own, but not close enough to be anything but wrong.  Genji doesn’t know if it will get better the more he uses it, or if this is just what he sounds like, now. Jesse doesn’t mind.

 

He likes it when Genji talks.

 

He’s the only one who likes it.

 

Genji listens to Jesse tell stories; about the missions he goes on, about his life before Blackwatch, about the people and places he’s left behind.  Sometimes he reads to Genji, and Genji pretends not to be interested. The books Jesse picks are awful, but the sound of his voice is soothing, and Genji relaxes into it without trying.

 

There are doctors, and nurses, and Commander Reyes, all doing their duty to make sure Genji is recovering as he should.  

 

Keeping tabs on Blackwatch’s investment; nothing more, nothing less, and Genji doesn’t blame them.  

 

Then, there is Jesse.

 

Jesse who never asks Genji questions he doesn’t want to answer.  Jesse who is there even though there’s nothing in it for him— nothing to gain but Genji’s vitriol, or his silence.  Jesse who calls him by his first name, but also sweetheart, sugar, dollface, darling.

 

Genji has been a lot of things, but never anyone’s darling, and he hates the way it makes him shiver inside.  Down in his bones, the metal and tubing of his guts, the artificial chamber of his right lung.

 

Genji is made of spare parts and sharp knives, and Jesse still reaches out to touch.  Gets cut, and grins, and reaches out again.

 

If Jesse isn’t on a mission he is in Genji’s room.  Chasing him out doesn’t work, and Genji finds he likes the distraction, especially as his body starts coming together in earnest and O’Deorain begins weaning him off his morphine.  Genji’s prosthetic arm is permanently affixed to his chestplate, and one by one the machines disappear— no need for the constant dialysis, no monitors tracking every beat of his heart, no computer wired directly into his cybernetics.

 

Just the vicious itch of metal embedded in his flesh, and migraines as he gets used to the new cybernetics implanted in his brain, to the digital display in the corner of his vision.  For warnings when he’s damaging his armor, all those places he can’t feel anymore, and Genji wants to laugh.

 

Little green letters follow him everywhere, telling him all the ways he is broken.  

 

The painkillers they give him now are woefully inadequate, and on bad days Genji hides under his blankets in the dark with an icepack pressed to his face, and tries not to cry.

 

Jesse comes in, careful not to make too much noise, and runs his fingers through Genji’s hair.  Massages the tight knots of anxiety in the muscles of his neck and shoulder, and it hurts, but then the pain recedes to leave him relaxed and plaint under Jesse’s touch.  He strokes over the tubes and metal of Genji’s new body with something like affection; Genji hates them, but he hates them less with Jesse’s hands on them. Gentle, like Genji is delicate.  Like he is breakable.

 

Genji thinks he is only fragile in moments like these, with Jesse in the dark of his room, fingers tangled in Genji’s hair.  

 

_ It’s okay, darlin’, I got you,  _ and Genji wants it to be true.

 

He can’t let Jesse have him, but he likes to hear it all the same.

 

-

 

Without the haze of opiates in his system, Genji comes together quickly.  His prosthetics work better than his legs ever did, and it’s a bitter, morbid thought.

 

That Hanzo cut him down, and then Overwatch made him into something more.

 

It takes less time than it should; learning to walk again, to run again, to jump and roll and climb.  Genji pushes through Blackwatch’s training courses faster and faster, and it’s supposed to be vengeance fuelling him.  Promises that he’ll be allowed to handle the clan as he sees fit, that they will unleash him on what’s left of his father’s empire. 

 

It isn’t, really.

 

Jesse is coming back from missions hurt more often than not, and Genji cannot keep him safe here, buried underneath Rome.  Restless, and useless, and itching in ways that have nothing to do with his wiring.

 

When they tell him he’s mission ready, all Genji can think is  _ finally. _

 

He can stand between Jesse and all those bullets, and send them back where they came from.

 

Reyes knows better than to pair him up with anyone else.  The rest of Blackwatch’s agents are wary at best, antagonistic at worse, and he doesn’t trust them to have his back.  They think of him as a machine, and he can’t fault them for it.

 

He feels so far away from who he used to be that it burns.  

 

-

 

They give him a faceplate as extra protection for the more sensitive elements of his cybernetics, and he puts it on, and never takes it off again.

 

Except, of course, when he is alone with Jesse.  

 

They bunk together, beds on opposite sides of the narrow space, the room spartan and impersonal.  

 

Genji listens to Jesse breathe in his sleep, watches the glow of his eyes play out on Jesse’s face.  Jesse still reads to him, and they spar together, and eat together, and watch movies on the little screen of Jesse’s tablet.  Genji lets his head fall on Jesse’s shoulder, sometimes, and Jesse turns his face into Genji’s hair when he thinks Genji won’t notice.

 

Genji doesn’t shower at the same time as Jesse, or anyone else in Blackwatch, for that matter.  Vulnerability is a terrifying thing, both old and new, and Genji can only face so much of it.

 

It’s hard enough to take off his prosthetics at night, legs both ending just above the knee; he wouldn’t, if it were anyone else sleeping in the bed across from him.

 

But Jesse has seen him at his worst, and taken it with a smile.

 

They fight together, and Jesse is always there when he needs him, running into the fray without hesitation.  Genji has heard Reyes talking to Morrison through the open door of his office late at night.

 

_ With Jesse, he is an asset.  Without him, he is a liability. _

 

Genji is glad.  

 

If being a liability means Reyes slots all their missions together, then so be it.

 

They rebuild Genji, and rebuild him again.  He loses more of himself, and Jesse is there through it all; stroking his hair, and holding his hand, and telling him everything will be okay.

 

It won’t, but Jesse doesn’t mean to lie, and Genji won’t hold it against him.  

 

Genji holds Jesse’s guts together in an alley in Moscow, and wants things he cannot let himself have.  Jesse breathing goes shallow, and the biotics are too slow, and he clings to Genji’s arm with bloody hands.  His pupils are two different sizes, and he’s having trouble focusing his gaze, but his mouth works just fine.

 

_ Love you, Genji.  I love you. _

 

Genji loves him, too, but Hanzo’s ghost still lives in the edges of his vision, and Genji’s bones are buried in the ground across the world.

 

He will never be whole again, and Jesse deserves more than this.

 

More than Genji, made of metal, aching for vengeance.  

 

Jesse wants to kiss him, pulling him down with quaking fingers,  _ please, Genji, just this once.  _  Genji lets him, terrified it will be the last thing Jesse does; that this is all either of them will get.  He takes off his faceplate, and presses their lips together, and it’s the worst mistake he’s ever made.

 

Nothing will ever feel this right again.  

 

Not even Hanzo going limp under his blade, and Genji wants to break.

 

O’Deorain puts Jesse back together with same cold detachment as always, like he is a weapon she is repairing, but the damage is already done.  For Genji, at least.

 

He visits Jesse in the medbay, and runs steel fingers through Jesse’s hair.  Listens to him mumble, words slurred, eyes lidded. Drugged, and Jesse turns his face into Genji’s touch, and kisses his palm.

 

_ Love you, Genji.  Love you,  _ and it hurts in every part of him, flesh and metal both.  Stings in his chest and swells in his veins. His toes curl, and Genji can feel every shuriken loaded in his forearm, the weight of his sword on his back, the press of the wakizashi on his hip.  His scars ache, and Jesse smiles, and it’s the most gorgeous thing Genji has ever seen.

 

Like it always is, always has been, always will be.

 

Something he can carry with him, even as he leaves it behind.

 

Genji reads to him until he drifts off, fingers tangled together, machines trilling softly all around.

 

Then Genji leaves him sleeping, and never comes back again.

 

-

 

Genji goes to Japan, and the clan is already in pieces.  

 

Hanzo is already in pieces.

 

He stays in shitty hotels.  Abandoned houses, neglected temples.  Genji watches him, thinking any moment that Hanzo will notice, but he never does.

 

He drinks, and stares at nothing for hours on end, only to suddenly flinch like he’s been struck and pick up his bottle again.  Picks up his bow again, sometimes, and goes slinking through the night looking for prey.

 

Even so trashed on sake that he can barely stand, Hanzo never misses a shot.  Not when he’s shooting at his family, the pitiful dregs that are left of them, and it’s a bitter, vicious thing.

 

Hanzo loves him relentlessly now that he is gone.  

 

Now that Genji is a memory, instead of a man.

 

Hanzo bleeds from cuts he doesn’t know he has, eyes blank and vacant, a thousand miles away.  He runs through liquor like water. Doesn’t speak, and doesn’t sleep.

 

If his bow isn’t in his hands, they’re shaking.

 

It would be a kindness to kill him, so Genji doesn’t.

 

Just leaves him behind to haunt the places he used to call home.

 

Leaves Hanzo, and leaves Japan, and loses himself.

 

-

 

Genji stays lost.  Overwatch falls apart.  Jesse is more of a ghost than Hanzo has ever been, and every time Genji looks for him, he slips through his fingers.  

 

Genji is slipping through his own fingers, too.  

 

Hanzo is ruined.  Jesse is gone. 

 

Genji is alone, and it aches.

 

-

 

Nepal is not where Genji wants to be, at first, but it’s where he has to go.  

 

They have what he needs to fix himself, and it takes him a while to realize that is more than metal and cybernetics.  He figures it out eventually.

 

He figures out a lot of things, eventually.

 

Zenyatta is first a curse, and then a blessing, and finally a friend.  When the recall comes through Zenyatta agrees to come with him, and they leave the Shambali behind, and head east.

 

Hanamura first, and then Gibraltar.  Hanzo has punished himself more than Genji ever could, and it is time to heal old wounds.

 

Those he’s borne, and those he’s dealt.  It’s not a long journey, but it feels that way.

 

Jesse is waiting.


	2. Glitch

The desert is familiar.  Jesse melts into it effortlessly, makes it his own.  An old friend, and slipping through the gorge is like pulling on forgotten clothes.  Worn in all the right places, and it fits like a second skin, but it’s never been home.

 

Home is something Jesse has been chasing after all his life.  Something he finds, and then loses, and then finds again, but can never seem to hold onto for long.

 

Home was a farm out in the backwoods of east Texas, cicadas buzzing as the sun went down, paint peeling off the porch rails he leaned against.  A glass of tea so sweet it felt thick on his tongue; grass stains on his jeans, and a bandana loose around his neck, everything smelling like soil and hay.

 

Home was a girl with bright red lips and a glint in her eyes, pulling Jesse into her orbit like the sun.  Teaching him how it felt, the drugging rush of adrenaline; running, and running, and never get caught. How addictive it was, getting away with things, always pushing to see how far they could go.  Jesse didn’t love her the way she loved him, but he didn’t quite understand what that meant until later— until it was him, recklessly in love, reaching for someone who couldn’t reach back.

 

Home was a shock of ink black hair under his fingers, and a voice with a robotic edge lilting in his ear.  A hospital room without windows, the feel of metal on his skin— red irises in the dark, watching him sleep, keeping him safe.  Sharp edges, and soft touches, the two of them creeping further into each other until there was no space between them, and they breathed the same air, always.   

 

A mouth pressed against his as the whole world dimmed and faded; the taste of blood, and sweat, and Genji…

 

Genji teaches Jesse that someone can take home with them when they leave him behind.

 

It hurts more than any bullet.

 

Busted ribs and broken bones, the bite of shrapnel in his chest.  A blade hitting home— sinking deep, and tearing pieces of him away; all of it is bearable.  Nothing can touch him.

 

Genji has all the best parts of Jesse, anyway.

 

Anything else he loses is an afterthought.

 

-

 

The recall comes through, and Jesse can’t fight for Overwatch, but he can help them fight for themselves.  Gathering up allies is dangerous sometimes, but Jesse makes the rounds, takes the risks, puts in the work. He doesn’t even plan to head to the Watchpoint; Jesse is a liability, and it’s not a good idea for anyone involved.  The bounty on his head is ridiculous, and it’s not the kind of attention Overwatch needs if they’re going to try and get the United Nations on board with their new operation.

 

Except then he gets word that Genji is headed to Gibraltar.

 

_ He asked if you were coming, _ and Jesse is already moving.  

 

It isn’t hard to leave the desert behind, and Jesse tries not to get his hopes up, but it’s been a long time since he was any good at lying to himself.  He still wants Genji. Still misses him, more than he misses his arm, more than he misses any home he’s ever had and lost. 

 

Still loves him, even after all these years, and maybe Genji doesn’t.  Maybe he never did. It doesn’t really matter.

 

Jesse will keep reaching.

 

He never learned how to stop.

 

-

 

He gets to the Watchpoint well before Genji, and it takes some convincing before Winston and the others realize he’s serious about not joining up with them.  That he isn’t there for them.

 

That he’s only there for Genji, and anything else is going to have to wait.

 

The officers quarters are mostly empty, and Jesse commandeers one and makes it his own.  The new agents are a little starry eyed at first, but it passes quickly, and Jesse is left to fall into a routine.  Train at the range, and at the gym. Go over which of Blackwatch’s methods Talon seems to have adopted with Winston and Lena, advise them as best he can.  Eat, shower, crawl into bed. He finds the rhythm easier than he expects after five years on the run, but old habits are hard to break entirely, and Jesse was a soldier for a long, long time.

 

The nights are lonely, but they always have been without the sound of Genji breathing to keep him company, and Jesse rests easier knowing he has friends nearby.

 

It’ll never be what it once was, but they can make something of themselves, this new group of fighters and vigilantes.  He can feel the potential, can feel the promise, but Jesse has already done his part.

 

He’s tired, and empty, and yearns for home.

 

So he waits for home to get there, as patiently as he can.

 

-

 

Genji slips into his bed in the dark, and Jesse startles, but Genji’s voice has him relaxing all at once.  

 

“Shhhh, it’s just me, Jesse.”

 

Genji has never been  _ just  _ Genji, and Jesse’s arms slip around him and pull him close.  All instinct, just like breathing. Genji lets him, and the room is pitch black, but Jesse can feel the smooth synthetic skin of Genji’s prosthetics, feet sliding over Jesse’s calves.  He’s taken off his armor, and Jesse noses blindly towards Genji’s face to find his mouth. Brushes his nose over Genji’s jaw, across his chin, pausing when he can feel the heat of Genji’s breaths against his face.

 

Jesse has been dreaming of this moment for ages, and it feels too good to be true.  Genji is in his bed, and when Jesse flattens his palm over Genji’s spine all he feels is warm skin under his hand.  No armor, no exoskin, no faceplate.

 

Just Genji, and Jesse shudders, and tries to find the right words.

 

Tries to find any words.

 

“You gonna let me kiss you, dollface?”

 

Genji kisses him first.  Whines, and brings their mouths together, and Jesse kisses Genji just like he did that night in Moscow.

 

Like it’s the last thing he’ll ever do.

 

A desperate, frantic thing, and Genji’s left hand shakes against Jesse’s cheek as he tosses his leg high over Jesse’s hip to get closer.  Jesse hooks a hand under his knee, slides it up his thigh, letting his fingers edge under the fabric of Genji’s boxers. He doesn’t mean to speak, doesn’t mean to stop kissing Genji at all, but the accusation spills out of its own volition and he can’t take it back again.

 

“You  _ left.” _

 

Genji makes a wounded noise, holding Jesse’s face in both of his hands, ducking in to kiss him again.  He mumbles between the words, lips quivering now, voice wavering.

 

“I know, I know.  I’m  _ sorry,  _ I…  I looked for you for years, I swear I did, I-”

 

“I loved you, I- I woulda died for you, and you just left, and never came back.”

 

He’s holding onto Genji so tightly it has to hurt.  There will be bruises from his fingers, and Jesse tries to loosen his grip, but his hands don’t want to cooperate.

 

Don’t want to let Genji go.  Afraid he’ll run, even now, and Genji’s eyes are lighting up ethereal green as tears track wet down his face.

 

“I fucked up.  I thought I wasn’t enough, that I wouldn’t ever be, I— I thought I didn’t deserve you, and then I left, and I really  _ didn’t  _ deserve you anymore. I was  _ stupid.   _ I’m sorry, and I love you, and-”

 

Jesse lays his index finger over Genji’s mouth, and rolls them both until Genji is pinned underneath him.

 

“Athena, can I get some lights?  Soft, if you please.”

 

The inset bulbs in the ceiling thrum to life, casting the room in a faint glow, and Jesse looks down at Genji with hungry eyes.  He looks the same— a little older, but it hasn’t been  _ that  _ long, and the years have been good to him.  Erased the fury that was always simmering in his gaze, worked some of the tension out his bones.  Jesse thumbs away the tears on Genji’s cheeks, and presses their foreheads together, letting his eyes fall closed.

 

“Say that again.”

 

Genji exhales rough through his nose, and threads his fingers into Jesse’s hair.

 

“I love you, Jesse.”

 

Jesse tucks his face into Genji’s throat and kisses him there, closed mouthed and chaste.  When he speaks he doesn’t move, hiding in Genji’s skin, like it will keep him safe somehow.

 

Genji always protected him from everything but himself.

 

“I love you.  God, I’ve loved you for a long time, but I can’t lose you again.  I don’t have it in me, I can’t… I can’t do this, and wake up to an empty bed tomorrow.  Tell me. Tell me I get to keep you, baby.”

 

Genji coaxes Jesse’s face out and brings their mouths together again, and Jesse is too weak to do anything but yield.

 

To give Genji anything he wants.

 

“I promise, I’m not going anywhere.  Not unless you go, too. I’ve missed you so much.  I’m so fucking sorry, Jesse.”

 

Genji’s still crying, and Jesse kisses the tears away, making soothing noises and running his hands through Genji’s hair.  Just like he used to, and maybe Genji’s body remembers, because he goes lax under Jesse’s hands almost instantly. All the old hurt melts away, because it doesn’t matter anymore.  

 

Genji is here.  Genji is his.

 

Jesse thinks he always has been, even across the world, all alone.

 

“Shhh, enough of that.  I ain’t mad. Tell me what you want, sweetheart.  We can curl up and go to sleep. I dunno how long you been on the road but some rest’ll do you good.”

 

It isn’t what Jesse wants, but they have time now, and a night with Genji in his arms is hardly a loss.  Genji shakes his head, though, arching underneath Jesse and letting his thighs fall wide.

 

“Want you.  Wanted you back then, and I want you now.  Please, Jesse, just…  need you to touch me, _please.”_

 

Now that the lights are on Jesse can see that the boxers Genji is wearing are his own, ragged red plaid that’s too big for Genji, fraying along the seams.  He looks at them for a long moment, and then back at Genji, cocking up one eyebrow. Genji laughs, a watery sound, and slaps at Jesse’s shoulder.

 

“I didn’t have any with me, and I didn’t want to  _ assume.   _ I was trying to be a gentleman.”

 

Jesse laughs then, running his hands over every inch of skin he can reach; greedy to relearn each scar by heart, no matter how long it takes.

 

“You have never been a gentleman in your entire fucking life, Genji.”

 

Genji scoffs indignantly, and kicks a heel into Jesse’s back.

 

Then Jesse leans down and kisses him, and that’s all he’s capable of doing for a long, long time.  

 

Genji’s mouth is softer than it has any right to be, and Jesse licks into it eagerly, Genji’s hands clutching at his chest.  Jesse’s fantasies are myriad, and vivid, but none of them come close to the reality of what he has now.

 

Genji is perfect in his arms, and under his hands, and in his mouth.  Their tongues spill together, and Jesse swallows the high pitched sounds Genji makes, groaning as Genji ruts up into him.  Jesse’s hard already; it would be a simple thing to get them both off in their clothes, but he’s been waiting to get his mouth on Genji for close to a decade, and he’s not going to give up his chance.  It will probably be better for Jesse than it is for Genji.

 

Jesse has never been exceptionally good at sucking dick; he gets overly excited and gags himself, or drools everywhere.  It’s messy, and it’s amateur, and that was before he went on a decade long dry spell, pining after a cyborg and jacking off alone in the shower.

 

But this is  _ Genji,  _ and Jesse wants all of him, in every way he’s allowed.

 

He licks at Genji’s throat, lingering there long enough to work a vicious hickey into the skin.  Something Genji will be wearing around the Watchpoint for days, and Jesse puts a matching one on the other side just because he can.

 

Because he’ll like seeing them there.

 

Because Genji will, too.

 

By the time he’s finished Genji is breathing hard, shoving into him, and Jesse kisses his way down Genji’s chest.  He takes a moment to suck a nipple between his teeth, biting down gently and listening to Genji whine out his name.   _ Jesse, Jesse,  _ and Jesse keeps going, trailing his lips over Genji’s stomach and feeling the muscles of his abdomen jump under his mouth.  He stops there, looking up at Genji and biting his lip, fingers tugging the waistband of his borrowed boxers down but not off.

 

“Can I?”

 

There is trepidation in Genji’s eyes, a sort of nervous Jesse has never seen on him before, but he seems to get it under control as he glances briefly at Jesse’s left hand.

 

“Are you going to tell me how that happened?  Getting yourself into all sorts of trouble without me.  Can’t leave you alone for a second, can I?”

 

It sounds like a promise, and Jesse will be happy to hold Genji to it.

 

“Not anymore, you can’t.”

 

Jesse smiles, eyes roving shamelessly over Genji— the black prosthetic shell of his right arm, the synthetic skin of his jaw, the sleek, shapely curve of his legs.  The prosthetics stop around the same place a pair of stockings would, and Jesse tries not to fixate on that mental image, but it’s hard. All that black contrasts beautifully with the pale stretch of his stomach, the lean muscles and ragged scars.  All of it is perfect.

 

All of it is Genji.

 

“Keep going,” Genji says, vulnerable like Jesse hasn’t heard in ages.

 

Since Genji was still getting used to the sound of his voice.

 

Jesse tugs the boxers off to lay Genji bare, and he can’t help the way his smile goes wide and pleased.  He’s expecting to be greeted with Genji’s cock, but there is a slit there instead, slick and shining between Genji’s thighs.

 

Jesse might not be great at sucking dick, but this is another story entirely.  Genji’s holding his breath, waiting, and Jesse runs his thumb over the swollen nub of Genji’s clit and watches him shiver. 

 

“Oh, sweetheart.  You’re gorgeous.” 

 

Genji has always been the prettiest thing Jesse has ever laid eyes on, and this is no different.

 

He buries his face in Genji’s cunt with unabashed hunger, moaning as he laps up Genji’s slick.  Genji fists his fingers tight in Jesse’s hair, like he needs to hold him in place, but it’s entirely unnecessary; Jesse’s going nowhere.

 

He sucks Genji’s clit into his mouth, and Genji arches up off the mattress with a hissed slew of Japanese that Jesse can’t parse at the moment.  His Japanese is rusty, and Genji tastes divine; it’s impossible to focus on much else as he swirls his tongue over Genji, then pulls back to bury it as deep as he can in Genji’s folds.  Licks, and sucks, and Genji rocks into his mouth in helpless little motions, breath hitching as he mewls out whimpery sounds. 

 

It hasn’t been very long, but Genji’s legs are twitching on either side of his head, body drawn taut as he slurs out Jesse’s name.

 

“Jesse, Jesse…”

 

Genji’s voice is glitching, robotic tones gone strange and erratic, and his fingers are brutal in Jesse’s hair.  He comes over Jesse’s tongue with a sob. Jesse’s face is wet with it, moisture soaking into his beard, smearing across his cheeks; Jesse doesn’t slow, doesn’t stop.  Eats Genji through his climax, and keeps eating, unwilling to give up his prize. Genji’s thighs close around Jesse’s face, clamping down uncomfortably tight over Jesse’s ears, hard enough that it stings.  Jesse tries to ease them apart again, but Genji is viciously strong, the hydraulics in his prosthetics whirring with effort. 

 

“Open up for me, dollface,” Jesse says, and Genji nods furiously, but doesn’t obey.  Just huffs out ragged breaths, and tugs on Jesse’s hair, mindless with the feel of it all.  “Darlin’,” Jesse murmurs pleadingly against his sex, and Genji whines.

 

“Sorry, it’s been.... Nobody’s touched me, since… I-”

 

Genji cuts off on a wail as Jesse laps at him, and affection wells up in his chest, potent and staggering.

 

He plants his shoulder on the inside of Genji’s thigh, and splays the metal fingers of his prosthetic on the other, forcing them slowly, carefully apart.  The steel in his hand protests the strain, but holds, and Jesse pins his legs open as he mouths his way deeper into Genji’s pussy with a contented hum. Genji bucks underneath him, spine bowed, body tense.  It’s drugging, the way he’s falling apart for Jesse; the sounds he’s making, how Genji is breaking into a thousand perfect pieces.

 

Jesse could do this all night and never get tired.

 

When Genji comes again his voice is laced with static and odd synthetic tones.  His eyes strobe green, and his whole body goes eerily still for a moment; Jesse pulls back, looking up at Genji with furrowed brows, worry written across his face.

 

“Baby?”

 

Genji blinks the green from his eyes, and takes a deep, heaving breath, a flush painting his cheeks as he glances down where Jesse is settled between his thighs.

 

“My… my cybernetics went offline for a moment.  I’m fine.” Jesse can’t help the smile on his face, and Genji tugs his hair.  “Don’t look so pleased with yourself.”

 

Jesse presses two of his fingers into Genji, sliding up his body to kiss him again.  He watches Genji’s eyes go heavy as he tastes himself on Jesse’s tongue, listens to his breath catch in his throat.  Genji’s thighs are already as wide as they will go, but he lifts them higher anyway, knees up past his hips as he rocks down into Jesse’s hand.

 

“Can I fuck you, darlin’?”

 

The answer must be yes, because Genji groans, and rolls Jesse onto his back.  Straddles him, and works Jesse’s cock out of his boxers, giving it an impatient stroke before nudging the crown against himself and sinking down.  

 

Genji is an open flame around him, slick and hot and overwhelming, and Jesse grits his teeth against the urge to come.

 

There will be more bruises on Genji’s legs, on his ass; Jesse can’t help how tight he’s holding onto him as he rolls his hips in tantalizing circles.  Genji’s head lolls back on his shoulders, palms planted behind himself on Jesse’s thighs, mouth open as he moans, and shakes, and  _ moves. _

 

Genji rides Jesse lazily, all sinuous motion and breathy sighs.  Jesse is so hard it hurts, but he is in no hurry, either. They have all the time in the world, and it doesn’t matter how long Genji takes.

 

Jesse will never be done with him.

 

The sun comes up over Gibraltar, and Overwatch has work to do, but Jesse doesn’t.

 

He has Genji, and they’re both home.  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tell me nice things <3

**Author's Note:**

> Tell me nice things.


End file.
